On Thursday, June 14, Rabat was reached, and a halt called some little distance outside the city. The state of the Sultan’s body was such as to render a public funeral impossible, so in the darkness of the night a little procession of foot-soldiers, with only a single Shereef attending, one and all bearing lanterns, set out. A hole was bored in the town walls,—for seldom, if ever, is a corpse carried into the gate of a Moorish city; and surrounded by this little band, Mulai el Hassen, Sultan of Morocco, was laid to his last rest in the mosque covering the tomb of his ancestor, Sidi Mohammed ben Abdullah. At dawn, as the people bestirred themselves to witness the funeral, it became known that all was over; and amidst the acclamations of the populace and the sounds of the Sultan’s band, Mulai Abdul Aziz was led forth, the great crimson-and-gold umbrella waving over him, surrounded by his father’s Viziers, and mounted on his father’s white horse, and proclaimed Sultan. Those who saw the spectacle described it to me. The boy’s eyes were filled with tears, for his love for his father was intense, and report says that it was only by force that he was persuaded to mount the horse and be proclaimed. A touching story was recounted to the writer by one who witnessed the episode. On his return to the palace the mosque where his father had been buried the previous night was passed. Leaving the procession, Mulai Abdul Aziz proceeded alone to the door, and, weeping copiously, dismounted and entered to do his last homage to his father and his Sultan.